


Red

by peppermintquartz



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: Baze is the one who makes Chirrut wear the crimson under-robe. Chirrut doesn't care what he wears as long as he's clothed.





	

Baze is the one who makes Chirrut wear the crimson under-robe.

Chirrut doesn't care what he wears as long as he's clothed. Why should he? It wasn't as if he was concerned about style.

But Baze was the one who scoured the stores beneath the temple, when they were given the ranks of guardian, and chose the red for Chirrut. He had shoved the folded robes to Chirrut one evening, and was silently gratified when he spotted Chirrut wearing it the next day. 

*****

That flare of red stands out in the muted shades of Jedha. It is how Baze can see where Chirrut is and what he's doing. It's easy to keep track of where that blind dreamer was going. Baze has never forgotten the time Chirrut had tripped over some steps in the temple, the one time Chirrut's blindness caused him an injury. 

"Just a scraped chin," Chirrut had said then, with a grin.

"You never fall."

"I felt something in the Force. It distracted me."

"So much for the Force," Baze had grumbled then. He had still been a believer at the time. He should have known then that was proof. That there was no such thing as the Force. Chirrut's faith should have protected him from all hurts, and yet.

Chirrut's hand had been warm, resting against Baze's cheek. "It is worth a small hurt to feel your care."

"Don't get sappy on me," Baze had said, though it had been impossible to hide the smile from his voice.

Chirrut had pinched his cheek in response.

*****

If Baze can see more of the red than usual, chances are Chirrut is fighting - again - and this is when Baze sighs and goes to help. 

It's ridiculous how assured Chirrut is walking into danger. It is utterly ludicrous that he keeps picking fights, and impossible that he always wins.

He tells this to Chirrut at least once a week, usually after scattering some unfortunates from trying to bully someone.

Chirrut always says, "That's because I am with the Force, and the Force is with me."

"Yes, and you have me protecting you from the foolish things the Force leads you to."

Baze never understands why Chirrut's grin is always so cocky after he hears Baze's response, but it's worth the trouble if it means Chirrut never loses that cheer, even amid all the trouble.

*****

It's Baze who launders the clothes. He washes the red robe separately and dries it indoors, so that the hue does not fade. 

One night, before moonrise and after their meager dinner, Chirrut had Baze describe colors to him.

Blue was the morning and the cool of water. Green was the small weeds growing in the crevices of the walls after rain. When Baze got to red, he thought of the blood staining the walls of the temple.

But he said, "The color of this" and put Chirrut's hand on the red under-robe. The black outer robe hung from the peg on the wall. The cloth was warm, from the heat of Chirrut's skin, and gritty from the everpresent sand. It felt like any other piece of fabric.

But Chirrut turned his hand so it was palm up, and linked hands with Baze. "So this is red."

Baze smiled. A rare occurrence, except when he was with Chirrut. "Yes."


End file.
